


Arthur: Unbound

by LauramourFromOz



Series: The Adventures of Hubble & Hallow [5]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Archaeology, F/F, M/M, S3 E14 (1998) The Uninvited, lgbtq+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauramourFromOz/pseuds/LauramourFromOz
Summary: In which Cackle's academy becomes instramental in the return of King Arthur. Non-Magical culture has it vaguely wrong, as usual.Partially inspired by 'The Uninvited'.This takes place in a slight AU of the 2017 series. Jayne is the same Jayne from 'The Australians' and 'Convergence' but she doesn't have magic in this universe.
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, Hecate Hardbroom/Ada Cackle, Mildred Hubble/Ethel Hallow
Series: The Adventures of Hubble & Hallow [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039242
Kudos: 3





	1. Singing Mail

**Author's Note:**

> Ealdefæder is Old-English for grandfather. The -es ending puts it in the genitive (possessive) case so ealdefæderes translates roughly to ‘my grandfather’ or grandfather of mine’ in this context. Technically it’s just ‘grandfather of…’ but standing alone the ‘mine’ is implied. It’s a slight vulgarisation.
> 
> Avus is Latin for grandfather. Avusī is the genitive form. This is also a slight vulgarisation. Latin has three more cases than Old-English and one of them is the vocative (form of address which would be proper here) technically she should say Ō Avus but I’ve used the genitive instead for two reasons:
> 
> 1\. she uses the same form of the same word in two different languages which illustrates that she doesn’t see Merlin and Arthur as anything less than equal in parental status.
> 
> 2\. Although Æthelflæd and Ælfwynn, would have spoken perfect Latin its vulgar form would have differed greatly between England and Rome even though the Classical forms were the same (grammatical variation, celtic, and even possibly Norse, lone words).
> 
> Modor is Old English for ‘mother’ it’s a weak noun so the Nominative (subject), Accusative (object) and Genitive cases are identical. In this instance I’m using the genitive.
> 
> Fæder is Old-English for ‘father’
> 
> Pater is Latin for ‘father’ (Gen is patertris)
> 
> This: ‘ð’ is called an eth. It makes a th sound. No, I will not apologise for my dead language puns.

It was probably the clearest night Cackle’s academy had seen in five hundred years or more. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and there was no electricity for about a hundred miles in any direction. Some catastrophic fault in the power grid apparently. This was what the night sky was supposed to look like. The night was inky black, the world seemed to be lilt only by the sliver of moon and the infinite stars that burned in the universe. On the ground there was only firelight. The castle stood like a beacon, lit the way it was built to be lit. the bustling city at the foot of the mountain was dark while the castle was bathed in warm firelight. This was how things were supposed to be. The night was brisk but not cold and a light warming spell was all Hecate Hardbroom needed to be quite comfortable in her usual daywear. She may have been flexing The Code slightly by not wearing her cloak for warmth, still, it barely constituted a grey area.

Casually standing atop the battlements while they were lit just so Hecate invoked the image of the witches of legend, protecting some medieval King or Lord from whatever magical threat happened to be present. The true story of King Arthur danced around in the back of Hecate’s mind. She smiled to herself. The non-magical world had gotten that one very wrong indeed. Mostly due to late eighteenth century propaganda, as was the root of so many mythic misconceptions. That and the creative liberties of Geoffrey of Monmouth. There was a witching tale of Merlin and Morgan La Fay maintaining wards around Camelot Castle while it was besieged for forty days and nights while every citizen of Camelot sheltered inside the city walls. Every day, from dawn until dusk the Knights and men of Arthur’s Army would shout from the battlements showing all those within and without that Camelot stood strong.

Hecate’s imagination must have been running away from her because two of the three figures that had been drawing closer to the castle out of the blackness with their flickering firelight torches appeared to be in Pendragon cloaks and in the dark and stillness of the night Hecate was sure she could hear the faintest chink of mail as they approached. Hecate watched them approach a while longer and when they reached the gate Hecate transferred herself to the gate, more than a little curious.

These three were magical beings, she could feel it immediately. The one in the middle was certainly a wizard, although he didn’t dress like one in his stone coloured slacks, brown hiking boots fine marino emerald V-neck jumper, open collared dark grey shirt and well-worn black leather jacket. The only thing of his attire that hinted at his wizard status was the lining of his jacket. It was crimson satin with a gold dragon pattern. He was a wizard though; the most powerful wizard Hecate had ever encountered. This man was easily eight or ten times as powerful as The Great Wizard. Compared to this man even Hecate’s own considerable powers seemed like cheap parlour tricks. Hecate was very aware that this man could probably reduce the school and everyone in it to rubble if he so desired and the combined power of every magical being within a thousand miles would be no match for this man. This man was old magic.

The other two, a man and woman, had a more subdued magic, but that too was old. They were not, in fac, in Pendragon cloaks and mail. They were dressed very similarly and much more casually than their companion. In slate grey cargo pants, brown para-military style jackets and combat boots they looked almost as if they were in fatigues. There were flourishes to both jackets though, patches, badges and pins, coloured hand stitching. The Jackets were just busy enough to detract attention the embroidered Pendragon crest on heir right shoulders. Around each of their necks, on a leather cord, hung a two-inch-long sword. Not stylised so as to be attractive or decorative but at full size they would make fine weapons. The woman was attractive Hecate noted. Thirty-five or so, fit, muscled, bore fairly obvious but not disfiguring battle scars. There was something else about the woman Hecate couldn’t quite place. The man didn’t have visible scars but he too ad the look of past combat about him.

“Well met,” the uber-wizard said.

He touched his slightly bowed forehead in greeting. The others followed suit.

Hecate returned the gesture, “well met.”

The wards having alerted her, Ada Cackle was stood just out of sight watching with interest.

“Do you know who we truly are sister?”

Having never met the uber-wizard or either of his companions before Hecate was briefly taken aback. Hecate didn’t know who the late-night callers were, truly or otherwise, having been given exactly no information on the subject. She was about to say as much when she realised.

These people were of old magic, very old.

They bore tee Pendragon symbol.

_…When their land faces her greatest need, they will emerge from the darkness with singing mail…_

Hecate hadn’t imagined the pendragon cloaks or the chinking of mail through the darkness.

Standing at the castle gates asking admittance were three people she never thought she’d live to see…

“Arthur Pendragon. Merlin. And… Sorry, who are you?”

“Sir Jayne, first knight of Camelot. Also, Dr Jayne Eastick, archaeologist.”

Jayne shook Hecate’s hand firmly. Hecate was taken aback for two reasons. The first was Jayne’s unmistakably Australian accent. The second was tat Jayne was distinctly female. Jayne made plenty of appearances in the witching tales of King Arthur. Hecate, like everyone else, had always assumed Arthur’s right-hand man was male. There was, in actual fact a loose (and while persistent and stretching back to the beginning of Arthurian scholarship, not particularly large) conglomerate of witching scholarship who ascribe to the theory that King Arthur’s right-hand man was actually a woman. While Jayne is sometimes referred to as ‘brother’ or by other traditionally masculine endearments, gender neutral pronouns and descriptors are consistently used in Latin, Old-English and early Middle-English sources. Jayne isn’t definitively gendered as male until very late Middle English sources. Even then, it’s so sparce and inconsistent some attribute those examples as scribal error. Yet another thing late eighteenth-century propaganda has to answer for.

“Sorry,” Hecate said, “I- “

“Thought I was male?”

“Well yes.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone always does.”

Hecate invited them in and transferred all four of them to the sitting room in Ada’s office. Ada wasn’t there. It was still half an hour until lights out so some of the girls were still up and around and It wasn’t uncommon for the headmistress to be doing the rounds, touching base with some of the girls, playing cards. Ada deeply valued her time she spent with their girls and they valued it just as much.

Hecate reached out for Ada with her magic. It wasn’t a tracking spell exactly. It was more organic, instinctual, animalistic, only possible between powerful sorcerers with a deep connection. Most people couldn’t do it, it required a rare set of circumstances that all had to fit together just right. When those circumstances slot together the method is almost infallible and can’t be blocked. Hecate excused herself to get Ada leaving Jayne, Arthur and Merlin in the office.

Hecate could pinpoint Ada to within about a foot anywhere in the world, Hecate was in no real hurry so she used the connection as a pointer and followed it until she found Ada with a small group of second years embellishing a tale of a particular escapade in the seventies. At least Hecate thought she was embellishing, Ada had never admitted as much. Hecate caught Ada’s eye and they shared a silent conversation after which Ada excused herself.

They were inexpertly followed back to Ada’s office. When they arrived it appeared that Jayne, Merlin and Arthur had deemed no more than one armchair necessary between the three of them. Merlin was sitting on the chair that was usually Hecate’s while Jayne and Arthur were perched on either armrest. Ada took the armchair opposite and Hecate perched herself on Ada’s armrest.

Ada offered tea.

“So,” Ada said once introductions had been made, “what brings you here?”

“That’s rather a long story that I can’t tell you yet,” Merlin began.

“He can’t tell you because he doesn’t know,” Arthur supplied, “he has nearly two millennia of memories and experiences knocking about in his head. They don’t always come to the surface in quite the right way.”

“Basically,” Jayne finished, “we know we have to be here, we just don’t know why.”

“What do you think Mildred,” Hecate said with a twitch of her wrist and a private smile.

The door swung open o expose Mildred Hubble listening attentively at the keyhole. She stepped all the way through the door sheepishly.

“Sorry, Mrs Hardbroom.”

Mildred turned to leave.

“No, you might as well stay. I’d bet good money you’ll be tied up in this somehow.”

Mildred came the rest of the way in. As soon as she saw the visitors properly she clutched her head and cried out in pain. Jayne was next to her like a shot and Hecate was right behind her.

Mildred’s eyes darted around the room, taking stock, a moment later

“Jayne! Ealdfæderes! Avusī! Mordor!” The last was directed at Hecate.

Hecate looked at Ada and then back at Mildred.

“Mordor?” Mildred repeated at Hecate’s confused look, “why doesn’t she recognise me?”

Mildred looked from Jayne, to Arthur, to Merlin.

“She doesn’t recognise us either Ælf,” Jayne supplied when it appeared nobody else was going to.

“What do you mean?” Hecate asked.

“Well unless…” Merlin trailed off, “give me your arm.”

Merlin took hold of Hecate’s wrist, his magic snaking through her veins.

“She’s powerful, her magic is holding back Morgana. She’s there but the memories can’t get through,” Merlin said, releasing Hecate’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” Ada said.

“Nor do I,” Hecate added.

Arthur and Merlin did not seem eager to elaborate, having a conversation in half sentences between themselves.

“You’re familiar with Arthurian mythology, yes?” Jayne began.

“Of course,” Ada replied.

“And I assume the witching version is a good deal more accurate than the non-witching version?”

“Naturally,” Hecate replied.

“Basically, the story pauses when Arthur and I die in battle with an epitaph that we will return when the need is greatest. But it isn’t just the three of us returning, it’s a lot of the figures who turn up in the legends.”

“And I’m Morgan La Fay?”

“No, you’re Morgana Pendragon. Daughter of King Arthur, otherwise known as Æthelflæd, Lady of Mercia. I gather from what Merlin said that your power is holding the part of you that is Morgana back. You should have remembered your previous life the moment you saw us properly just like Ælf did, in fact, you both probably should have remembered when you met each other.”

“And Mildred is?”

“Ælfwynn of Mercia. Your daughter.”

Hecate went very white. Ada guided her back to the armchair and clasped her shoulder comfortingly.

“Well,” said Merlin, “It looks like we’ve found the reason for our visit.”

“It seems you have,” Ada said, “Mildred, perhaps you could show our guests the castle. I think Mrs Hardbroom needs a bit of a sit down.”

“Yes, Mrs Cackle.”

A moment later Hecate and Ada were alone in the sitting room. Hecate let out a sigh.

“Of all the girls in all the world, why did Mildred Hubble have to end up the reborn daughter of my past self?”

“Well, it does make sense.”

“What? Why?”

“You do have a particular soft spot for her my love.”

“I do not have a soft spot for Mildred Hubble.”

“You have exactly two soft spots, one for me and one for Mildred. It makes sense, one for your wife and one for your daughter.”

“Ada.”

“You know what else, she’s a near perfect blend of you and me.”

“We are not adopting Mildred Hubble.”

* * *

“So,” Mildred said, “Tell me everything. How long have you been back? How did you come back? Who else have you found?”

“Well, I’ve been back about three months,” Arthur said, “Merlin sort of grew me.”

“Grew?”

“It’s a long story. I never actually left. I’ve just been waiting, watching.”

“I’ve been back six, seven years now.”

“How did that happen?”

“I was a soldier. IED in the Middle East. My old Identity and abilities kicked in just in time to protect me from the flames. After that I was discharged from the army and became an Archaeologist. I teach at a university now. Which reminds me, I don’t suppose I could have a look at what witching tales have to say about us.”

“I grew up non-magical so I don’t know what there is but I’m sure there’s something in the library, we can look tomorrow.”

* * *

Hecate was on lights-out duty. It was never anyone else, not really. Not unless Hecate wasn’t there. In the same way that Ada had her rounds with the girls, Hecate had hers. It was midterm break so about half the girls had gone home for a week or two. Hecate secretly liked this time of year She had the time and energy to devote to giving those that wanted it extra guidance. Hecate wasn’t like Ada, she couldn’t just spend leisure time with the girls. She didn’t do idle well. She could supervise school trips and days out. She could teach and be taught on nearly any subject. But playing chess or cards, taking tea. She enjoyed it with Ada, but even that had begun as a compromise. In the mid nineties, Ada had red a book that led her to believe that Hecate was on the fast track to burning out from stress and overwork. At the time Hecate had thought she was overreacting, in hindsight though Hecate thought she was probably right. And so, Ada had insisted they take tea together every day. Hecate didn’t really complain. For an hour every afternoon she had Ada’s undivided attention. 

Hecate knocked on Mildred’s door when she came to it, sticking her head through it to find Mildred reading. She looked up marking her page and setting the book aside carefully. Hecate absently recognised it as one of hr own, a book of magical lore she’d lent her after she’d asked a particularly obvious question that even Maud Spellbody and Enid Nighshade had laughed at. In a testament to Ethel Hollow’s new leaf, she was the only third year who hadn’t joined in.

“Mildred…” Hecate trailed off.

This was a bad Idea. Hecate was terrible at things like this. She sat on the end of Mildred’s bed and started again.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you. As Ælfwynn, I mean. It isn’t intentional.”

“Is being my mother really so terrible a prospect Mo- Mrs Hardbroom?”

Mrs Hardbroom. She’d been Mrs Hardbroom for nearly five years. It made her happy, a lot of people, magical and non-magical alike had fought very hard for a very long time so that she and Ada could be Mrs and Mrs. Mildred Hubble though was the only student who had never slipped up and called either of them Miss. Not even the other staff could make that claim. The odd slip here and there wasn’t too bothersome really, but Hecate couldn’t quite stave off the pang of hurt every time.

“No, I could do very much worse.”

Hecate patted Mildred’s knee slightly awkwardly as she got up, “Sweet Dreams Mildred.”

“You too Mrs Hardbroom.”


	2. Girl Talk

When Hecate Hardbroom finished her rounds and returned downstairs, she knew full well that the girls would creep into each other’s rooms for midnight feasts and the like. As long as they didn’t disturb each other and congregated in groups of five or fewer the staff left them to it over the holidays. They all thought themselves incredibly sneaky and clever for getting away with it.

There were only two third years still in the castle: Mildred and Ethel. A year ago (and possibly a year in the future) tis would have been cause for concern but, for the time being at least, they seemed to be getting along, even enjoying each other’s company which made everything run significantly smoother in third year. Generally, if they put their heads together year three could get themselves out of whatever they managed to get themselves into.

Three Hallows crept into Mildred’s bedroom. Ethel slid into the bed next to her, while Sibyl and Esmerelda sat at the foot if the bed.

“Who were those people?” Sibyl said, “Mrs Cackle was in the middle of telling us the Hippogriff story when she went off somewhere with HB. The next anyone saw of her was when she was with you and those three strangers.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oh, come on Mildred,” Ethel rested her blonde head on Mildred’s shoulder and gazed up at her.

Sibyl and Esme pretended not to notice that their sister had been more overtly tactile and affectionate with Mildred in the span of the mid-term break than she had ever been with anyone in her entire life. It was definitely an improvement, and definitely a little (or big) crush. Mildred didn’t seem to mind.

“The one in the leather jacket? He’s Merlin. The other guy is King Arthur.”

“What about the woman?” Ethel asked.

“Her name is Jayne Eastick, she was, well is, Arthur’s right-hand man.”

“So she was a woman.” Esme said.

“Very much so, yes. There’s more… I’m Ælfwyn of Mercia reborn. I’m King Artur’s Granddaughter.”

“So your mother is Æthelflæd of Mercia?”

“My, as in Mildred’s, mother isn’t.”

“So, does this mean you have to go on a quest to find Ælfwynn’s mother reborn? Can I come?” Sibyl asked hopefully.

“Not exactly.”

“You mean you know where, who, she is?” Esme said.

“It’s HB. Something went wrong though. Merlin says Æthelflæd can’t get through. Something about HB being too powerful.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Avusī will think of something, he always does.”

“Avusī?”

“It’s Latin, loosely translates as ‘Grandfather of mine’. It’s what I always called Merlin when I was Ælfwynn.”

A short while later Esme and Sibyl made their excuses and left Ethel and Mildred alone. Ethel had not quite managed to move her head from its place on Mildred’s shoulder and now that Esme and Sibyl had left them alone Mildred slipped her arm around Ethel’s waist.

“You aren’t going to have some handsome reborn prince, or something come and sweep you off your feet at some point are you? Because if you are I’d rather know now, before I fall anymore in love with you,”

“No Eð, nobody is going to come from Ælfwynn’s past. and steal me away from you. I promise you that.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because, I’m fairly certain Ælfwynn’s great love reborn is you.”

“Then why don’t I remember it?"

"I don't know, I'll ask Merlin."

"What happened?”

“By the time Arthur died Æthelflæd was already Queen of Mercia, had been for a while. Her husband was mortally wounded in a campaign he was leading alongside Arthur. One of his knights and one of Arthur’s knights just managed to get him back to Mercia before he died so she became Queen. When Arthur died she became Queen of Camelot and so Camelot and Mercia became one Kingdom. By the time Æthelflæd died there was only one other Kingdom in Britain, Northumbria. Ælfwynn fell in love with a beautiful sorceress named Ethel. She had Blonde hair and blue eyes. About eighteen months after Æthelflæd died The King of Northumbria captured her. He tried to execute her. He wanted to start a war so he could take Mercia.”

“What did you do?”

“I couldn’t take my people to war, it would have betrayed everything Arthur and Æthelflæd worked their entire lives for. I broke her out of the Northumbrian dungeons half dead. We disguised ourselves as eunuchs and hid in a monastery for the rest of our lives. Without a Queen, Mercia fell to the Northumbrian King. My people overthrew him in two months and elected a new King. And that’s how Britain happened.”

“So you gave up your entire Kingdom for a woman?”

“I had no choice. I couldn’t let her die and I couldn’t take my people to war over one woman, even if she was the love of my life. That had destroyed greater Kingdoms than mine. I took a leap of faith. I trusted that my people wouldn’t stand by for tyranny, and they didn’t.”

“So, what do you think is the problem with HB?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think she knew on some subconscious level and somehow managed to clamp down on the influx of memories and experiences as it stared?”

“She’d have had to be quick as a shot. It can’t have been more than a second between when I saw Arthur, Merlin and Jayne and when the memories started coming to me.”

“HB is pretty powerful. Most powerful witch I’ve ever met. More powerful than even The Great Wizard. And there’s Mrs Cackle.”

“What about her?”

“Think about it. They’ve been together twenty years. If a mythic medieval queen was about to take up residence in your mind, wouldn’t you try to stop it? You said it hurt, really hurt, perhaps that was your subconscious trying to keep Ælfwynn out? What if you just weren’t strong enough and HB is?”

They theorised for a while and when Ethel moved to leave Mildred stopped her.

“Please stay. I’ve had a bit of a day.”

When Hecate Hardbroom looked in on Mildred Hubble she was surprised and touched to see the two third years (and one-time rivals) currently in residence curled up together. Well this was a surprise. Ethel’s face was tucked into Mildred’s neck.


	3. The Obligatory Quest Required In Any Good King Arthur Story

Jayne walked the empty halls of Cackles Academy. She was tired but could not think of sleep. She was glad at having located Ælfwyn. It boded well that she was a thirteen-year-old girl, it meant that her actual involvement in whatever it was that was coming would be minimal. Jayne was worried about Morgana though. Trapped in that woman’s head. Morgana had proven herself immensely capable of handling any situation at any time in short order but it didn’t stop Jayne from worrying. She supposed nothing ever would. Morgana wasn’t her daughter, and she wasn’t Morgana’s mother but it was the closst either of them would ever have Jayne was there when Morgana was born, Ælfwyn too. All her life Morgana wanted to be just like Jayne. It was Morganas approval Jayne had sought when she had introduced Elisabeth at court for the first time, more even than Arthur’s. Morgana had learned her swordcraft at Jayne’s side.

Jayne’s thoughts were interrupted when Hecate appeared.

“Morgana,” Jayne said before she could stop herself, “I’m sorry. You look just like her.”

“It’s alright," Hecate said.

* * *

A week or so passed and Jayne, the archaeologist, was thoroughly engrossed in her research. Jayne, the knight, however, was beginning to get restless. Arthur had been in and out of the library as well, dividing his time between research and finding away to free Morgana from HB’s mind. It had been well and truly established that HB was not doing it on purpose, consciously or unconsciously. It was a pity because the solution would have been simple. Now, it was decidedly more complicated.

They had adopted a two-pronged research strategy. Merlin was magic, Jayne was myth. Arthur split his time between them.

The archaeologist in Jayne was patent and methodical. The wife and mother in Jayne was growing slightly restless being so far away from her present day wife and daughter, her worry for Morgana was only exasperating matters. The knight in Jayne was itching for a good quest. She was just contemplating this when Merlin appeared beside her and dropped a heavy (and very old) book on the table next to her with a thud. The archaeologist in Jayne grimaced inwardly at the treatment.

“I think,” Merlin declared, “I think I have a lead, but I need your help… where’s Arthur?”

“I thought he was with you.”

“I thought he was with you.”

“What have you found?” Jayne prompted.

Merlin read a passage aloud from the book he was mistreating.

Jayne racked her brain. It sounded similar to something she’d read before. Dammed if she knew exactly where or when. She read the passage again, trying to identify the culture that would have kept hold of it. She scanned the pile of books in front of her, cursing the lack of proper referencing in witching scholarship. Her eyes fell on: A Glossary of Intersection: A Brief Guide to Medieval Witching Lore in Non-Witching Scholarship. Jayne hadn’t red it yet, she had it out more for personal interest than anything and she intended to read it after they’d solved the Morgana problem.

The Glossary held the clue. Merlin’s passage corresponded to a tale from the time of William the Conqueror. She’d come across it while researching for an article. She produced a tiny plastic tub from her pocket. Merlin reversed the shrinking spell at a look from Jayne. Jayne pulled out dozens of miniaturised binders that were packed in neatly. They contained all of Jaynes meticulous research notes. She’d developed the system as an undergraduate and it had served her well. When she found the one she was looking for she let out a yelp of triumph and Merlin returned it to its normal size, Jayne scanned the index cards it contained.

“Eureka,” she said eventually, handing Merlin the card in question, “that could be corroborating evidence.”

“Could be?”

“Only if the source is independent.”

“So how do we find out exactly?”

“First thing we need to do is look at the sources. Lucky for us, non-witching scholarship references. Up for a quick jaunt to a university?”

Before Merlin could respond Jayne had smoothly slung her jacket on and had left to find Mildred whom she found playing cards with Ethel and Sibyl Hallow in the dining hall.

“Merlin and I need a book from a university, anyone up for a small quest?” it seemed impolite to just ask Mildred.

Mildred and Sibyl jumped at the chance while Ethel politely declined. With Mrs Cackle’s blessing the four of them set out. They arrived back at the school gates three hours later, the book in question tucked under Jayne’s arm, there was something very wrong indeed.

The castle was deathly silent. Merlin reached out with his magic and found only stillness. He looked at Jayne. Jayne took the sword from around her neck and whispered something to it, restoring it to its true size.

“Stay behind us,” Jayne said over her shoulder.

Mildred took Sibyl’s hand.

Jayne advanced, half a step ahead of Merlin, Sibyl and Mildred a step behind him. It was five full (and very long) minites before they saw any sign of anyone. It was two fourth year girls sleeping like the dead against a tree.

“Fen and Gris,” Mildred supplied,” are they?”

Merlin looked them over.

“No,” he said, “just asleep. Like like they just dropped whatever they were doing though.”

They pressed on, finding more and more people in the same state.

“Well, everyone’s accounted for. That’s a good sign.” Jayne said an hour and a half later.

“There’s no sign of anyone else either,” Merlin added.

“Are they going to be stuck like this forever?” Sibyl said.

“No. Every spell has a counter-spell, every poison an antidote, we just have to find them,” Jayne said with partially false conviction.

Something about the whole thing seemed somehow familiar. There was something just at the edge of consciousness, close enough to taste, but out of reach. Having established a distinct lack of clear and present danger Jayne and Merlin had set about researching a cure for whatever it was that had befallen the school. Mildred found herself sitting next to Ethel’s sleeping form in a hallway. She’d slid awkwardly down a wall when shed been hit with whatever it was, and her limbs had been at awkward angles when Mildred found her. Mildred had arranged Ethel’s limbs into a more comfortable position and was currently extemporising to her sleeping form when a stray thought wondered into her head.

That was ridiculous. It was only a fairy story. It couldn’t possibly work. Could it?

She tried it anyway.

Mildred liked kissing Ethel. It gave her butterflies and made her a bit giddy. Kissing her like this wasn’t quite the same. It didn’t feel quite right. Not until Ethel’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled into the kiss.

“Mildred? What happened?

“I think I might have just woken you from eternal sleep with a kiss.”

“How romantic. Wait, what?”

“When we got back from the university, the whole castle was asleep. I kissed you and now you’re awake.”

“Mildred, that’s not a thing.”

“It worked didn’t it.”

Ethel rolled her eyes, shrugged and followed Mildred to the library where Jayne and Merlin were trying to find how to get everyone out of their predicament. Sibyl was sitting close to where Esme and Arthur had been researching the previous predicament before succumbing to their current one.

“Ethe!” Sibyl was across the room like a shot.

“What happened?” Jayne said.

Mildred explained. Merlin opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and kissed Arthur experimentally.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open and he glanced around the room.

“Merlin? I thought you’d gone to a university for a book. What happened?”

Jayne held the book in the air, “we were hoping you could tell us that.”

“Kiss Esmerelda will you,” Merlin said, almost off hand.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“For science,” Jayne said.

“We need to know if it’s a prince thing, a magic thing or a true love thing,” Merlin explained.

Arthur shrugged and kissed Esmerelda. Her eyes opened.

“Sorry for the presumption,” Arthur said.

“It's alright. I feel weird, what happened?”

“Weird how?” Merlin asked, suddenly concerned.

“Not sure, kind of heavy and off.”

“Me too. It’s wearing off now.”

“So, do you three have to go around and kiss everyone now?” Sibyl said.

“Come on,” Arthur said, “we’ll start with the staff.”

Most of the staff were in the staff-room, with the exception of Miss Drill who they’d found in the broom-shed.

Arthur approached HB. When he kissed her, nothing happened.

“I think you have to do it Mildred,” Esme said

“It worked when I kissed you,” Arthur said.

“I’m straight. Straight women dream about being kissed by princes. HB is a massive lesbian.”

Mildred didn’t argue. When Hecate came around, she immediately crumpled o the ground and cried out in pain. Mildred leaped back in surprise. As quickly as it begun it was over and Hecate straightened. When Mildred moved to revive Mrs Cackle, Hecate’s hand stopped her.

“I think I ought to handle this one Ælf.”

“Modor?”

“My magic was temporarily knocked out, allowing Æthelflæd to come through properly. Patertris, Fæderes, Jayne. It’s good to see you.”

By nightfall everyone had been brought round. The cause of and motivation for the day’s events was still uncertain and that didn’t rest easy with anyone.


End file.
